Fight or Flight
by Rothelena
Summary: Birthday gift for Little-Firestar84! Short, smutty PWP, a little on the rough side- and rated so totally M, it's not funny anymore!


_This is a birthday gift for Little- Firestar84 !_

_It's short and pretty rough and SUPER SMUTTY, but I hope you like it anyway- rated M! MMMMMMM! Yeah, that was an M, my friends!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist" and I don't make money from fan fiction._

_P.S.: Did I mention that this is M AND SMUTTY? Yes? And the coarse language, did I mention that? You already guessed as much? Okaaaaaaaayy… just in case you didn't get it: this story has EXPLICIT SEX, okay? Well… here comes the story…._

**Fight or Flight**

Night crept up, and the stale air in the attic was almost icy enough to cool him down.

But just almost. Deep inside, Patrick Jane still felt like frothing and ranting, so angry and scared his hands were shaking. He had felt like this since Lisbon had come dangerously close to sacrificing her own life for Lorelei's, just to protect HIM from more heartache.

He had screamed until his throat was sore, until it had been certain that she hadn't been harmed, and then, the anger had consumed him like wildfire.

Lisbon still thought that he was in love with Lorelei, and she possibly still carried the pictures inside her mind, her fantasies about his one night with Red John's ex-minion, a night that had been less than passionate. He was still sure that he would never have been able to fool Lorelei if it hadn't been his first sex in ten years… that had possibly made up for incapability and hesitation, otherwise, she would have called his bluff immediately.

How could Lisbon think that, dammit?

Sure, he felt a certain compassion for Lorelei, who had suffered a similar trauma, had felt the pain he had all these years. But everything paled against the tender, passionate feelings his fierce superior evoked in him, the only home he knew, the only force of goodness in his life.

She could have died. Could have died protecting a woman she thought he loved, thus taking every spark of light from his miserable existence.

What would he have done without her?

Gone mad. Lost all purpose in the flicker of a moment. NO.

He kicked the makeshift bed so hard the boards rattled.

No.

He was DONE. Done resisting her. Done lying to her to keep this platonic. He felt his skin heat up, felt his cock swell into a murderous hard-on.

He would take what was his. His, because he knew she had given her heart as well as he had, and both had stayed stubbornly silent about it. ENOUGH.

He would claim her tonight. Fuck her until she acknowledged what was between them, accepted what they had become.

He straightened his suit and stormed out of his retreat, fuming with passion and anger. He controlled himself while he drove his car to her apartment, taking a second to contemplate his feelings, rich and sweet despite the danger that lurked behind them, because Red John would feast on this.

But he couldn't wait any longer- he simply would have to protect her. They would protect each other. But he couldn't wait.

His erection was growing out of his waistband, pulsing, aching, and he knew that when she didn't stop him (which she well could), it would rest deep inside her soon, pounding into the warm, soft heat he had craved for years now. He knew that he couldn't do much if she decided to fight him in earnest- he was powerless against her close combat tactics, but somehow he was convinced that she wouldn't. No- she would battle with him, but in the end, she would spread her legs to receive him. To consummate this fateful union that had been their destiny from the start.

He tried to walk slowly when he approached her apartment, but gave up halfway and simply ran the remaining distance.

He all but hammered against her door, the thundering noise strangely satisfying. His breath caught in his throat when she finally opened up, only her head appearing behind the doorframe. She was breathtaking.

He loved that his woman was no artificial doll, that she was real and pulsating, her glorious hair wild and disheveled, her small mouth pouting. No fake lashes on his pillow, no lipstick smears on his shirt, he would taste nothing but HER when he sampled the flavor of her pale, freckled skin. Her eyes were so huge they sucked him in.

He saw her confusion, her instant worry.

"Jane? Are you okay?"

He almost rolled his eyes.

Always the same with Teresa Lisbon- no matter what had happened to her, even if she were nothing but a bloodied heap on the floor, her thoughts would still go out to him first, worrying, ever-concerned.

"No," he quipped, "I'm NOT okay, Lisbon. I almost lost the woman I love today again, and that makes me a little grumpy, thank you very much."

She involuntarily rubbed her side where he knew her to be bruised. She had barely dodged this damn bullet, for god's sake, pushing Lorelei aside at the last minute. He could have lost her. Lost HER.

God, he hoped she wouldn't stop him, for he needed to ram his cock into her so bad, fucking her until he had come like a madman to be even mildly satisfied.

"Lorelei is fine, Jane," she whispered, her voice restrained and defeated at the same time.

And that made Jane explode like a nuclear bomb.

He shoved his way inside her apartment and slammed the door behind him, stalking her ruthlessly, feeling bigger than life for once.

She only wore a flimsy tank top and tight fitting panties, he could already hear the fabric rending.

"You stubborn, headstrong little witch," he hissed, "don't you understand it, dammit. I almost lost you today, lost you to a stupid bullet that wasn't even meant for you! It would have KILLED me if you had died, Lisbon! KILLED ME ON THE SPOT!"

He saw her getting angry, too, her eyes sparkling with fury, her little fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"What do you WANT, Jane?" she snarled.

"I want what's MINE! I want YOU!" he yelled.

He saw it then, and it made him so hot and horny he nearly doubled over. Her pupils dilated, her lips parted in moist longing, her nipples growing into hard peaks beneath her thin tank top. But her spunk was showing even then, her fierce defiance rising to battle him to the last breath.

He admired her. Adored her. NEEDED her.

"Forget it," she growled, "turn around and sulk in your lair, your highness."

His lips contorted in an evil grin.

"I warn you, Lisbon," he breathed hoarsely, "if you don't spread your legs for me, I'll make you."

He could almost smell her arousal, as monstrous as his own. Even his scalp itched with the need to possess her. He stuck his chin up, his nostrils flaring.

Her next words made his stomach heave in excitement and his erection throb even harder.

"You have to catch me first."

Before he could react she turned around and ran for all she was worth, but if there was one thing Patrick Jane could do, it was run.

He managed to catch her on the stairs, ripping her top in the process, weighing her down with his body so that his chest was pressed against her back.

He knew that she could easily throw him off if she wanted to, her battle abilities were far superior to his own, and he felt elated when she didn't, her half-hearted struggle rather useless, fueled by pent-up feelings and naked desire.

He held her wrists with one hand while he ripped her panties off with the other, pushing his hand between her legs to find her slippery wet, as wet as he had dreamed all these years, so ready, primed for the ruthless fucking he planned to give her. He let his fingers slide freely through her liquid arousal, teasing her entrance while attacking her pale neck with furious love bites, making her squirm beneath him in almost painful lust.

She tried to free her hands, but he didn't let her, couldn't wait a second longer, his hand already fumbling with his belt and fly, until finally, after endless seconds of struggle, his erection sprang free.

She finally managed to free her hands, glaring at him over her shoulder, but he could see the barely concealed eagerness in her eyes, noticed how she put her hand on her thigh to spread her sex further.

Jane roared like a lion and drove home, not caring for subtlety and finesse. Lisbon cried out, but he didn't spare her, ramming into her unbelievably tight sheath again and again, fucking like a beast in heat. He could think about nothing else, just the delicious friction of her clutching walls, her loud moans spurring him on. Sweat was plastering his clothes to his body in no time, and it made everything hotter, wilder, his cock pounding into her in a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against her perfect buttocks with the wet, sucking sounds of vigorous sex.

"You're my MATE," he hissed into her ear, never slowing down, "and I will work you so hard you'll be sore for WEEKS!"

Her whole body surged with ecstasy, and he actually felt her come, her sex contracting around him, making her even tighter. But he wouldn't be stopped, plowing through her resistance like a ram, pounding her hard all through her orgasm.

When she came down she managed to wriggle out of his grip, and although she didn't put much force behind it, it was enough to severe their connection, making him slip out of her. It almost hurt when he lost her, slid out of her wet heat, so tight her clutch felt protective, soothing. He had never had a woman as tight as she was, and it almost seemed fitting: Teresa Lisbon his haven, the tiny nest he could take root in. He wanted to hide inside her, ram as deep as he could go, push hard until his balls slapped her buttocks, again!

When he caught her only three stairs up, he pinned her, using his whole body weight to make his grip last. She felt even tighter when he pushed in again, hot, slick with their combined juices, her butt reddened a lovely pink hue from the continued slap of his hips.

He felt exhilarated, every cell burning with vibrating fire, his whole body invincible, able to go on like this for hours.

He continued to take her hard, sucking the soft skin at the nape of her neck with passionate vigor, whispered oaths of love and desire falling from his lips. She groaned, no doubt through gritted teeth, pushing her small body against his as good as she could in her pinned state, her delighted cries driving him a little bit more insane every second.

He underestimated her again and flexed his frame, pushing up on his outstretched arms for a second- enough for his lithe little minx to struggle free again, slipping from his grasp before he could catch her once more.

He chased her into her bedroom this time, pushing through the door before she could close it, toppling her tiny form on the bed like a racing shadow.

They struggled for a moment, until he managed to spread her legs and push back inside, deep, hard, her tight walls clutching him as if for dear life, it felt like coming home, out of the cold, curling into a ball next to a blazing fire. It thawed out his bones, his heart, and he allowed his body to go berserk on her, no control, no restraints, just the lust of a man who had found heaven in the arms of his sweet companion after years of burning in hell.

He'd never wanted to live as much as now all these years.

She'd come to lie on her back this time, so he could look into her eyes, and her gaze made him shudder. She wanted him, wanted him beyond words, beyond sanity even, her love as hot and vicious as his rough, hammering thrusts. Never had anybody wanted him like this, her touch scorched his skin, tiny hands wrapped around his forearms, gripping hard. Her thighs hugged his flanks as her eyes engulfed him, pulled him deeper, feelings so raw and uncompromising he could fall, could trust, wanted nothing but this for the rest of his life. In her eyes he escaped the past for this precious moments, melting into her body every time he forced his cock deeper, and still he didn't stop, searching for more force, more roughness, matching his anger and his relief and his love with frantic precision.

He loosely wrapped his hand around her throat, not to threaten her, but to feel her hammering pulse, almost matching the rhythm of his strokes inside of her. It was an utterly dominant gesture nonetheless, and he could see her delight, saw how much she loved to be defeated in bed, her ecstasy lashing out like a flame. His cock burned, too much friction, too much urgent need, tension coiling everywhere.

She came again, her lips forming his name in a wordless scream, unraveling around him like a wave he wanted to drown in, and he felt how close he was, how poised to spill inside her, give her his essence in the act of ultimate possession.

He let her orgasm trigger his own, but in the end it tackled him like a major explosion. He erupted inside of her in a flood of hot seed, still thrusting, never stopping to fuck his woman like she needed to be fucked. Lisbon rewarded him immediately, groaning and screaming her appreciation while he came copiously inside of her, her whole body arching against him in her urge to get closer.

He leaned down and claimed her lips in a frantic kiss, wet and open-mouthed, his tongue pushing into her mouth with undiminished hunger. He plundered, devoured, drank from her, her taste so heady he had no idea how he should ever stop. She was so sweet, so pure, and he emptied the last spurts of his seed into her while he tasted her so thoroughly her flavor became a part of him.

When his climax ebbed off it left him boneless, and he slumped down on the mattress next to her, his still semi-hard length slipping out of her with a wet sound. Everything was sticky from sweat and tears and seed, he had made an enormous mess, and he couldn't help smiling happily.

He felt almost comatose with satisfaction and was close to dozing off comfortably when he felt Lisbon's tiny hands fumbling with his clothes.

His eyes snapped open to watch her. She undressed him with fierce concentration, looking like a pagan earth goddess, so petite, stark naked, her hair a wild dark cloud around her head, swollen lips, glittering eyes, traces of his semen everywhere on her pale skin. A lovely dusting of freckles on her shoulders, his adorable Irish princess.

The way she stripped him of his shoes and socks felt so intimate it made his heart clench, and he lifted his hips to assist her with taking off his pants and underwear.

His length hardened on a gasp when she kissed it, briefly swallowing him about halfway to give him a deep, cheek-hollowing suck. He could see how much she enjoyed herself, every movement slow and sensual, her tongue teasing, playing, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. It almost made him come then and there, and he realized that what she had told him a while ago was true: he didn't know everything about her. But he would make it his task to explore her thoroughly, learn her by heart.

She released him with a content sigh and slid into the space next to him, wrapping her hand around his erection as good as she could. It felt mind-blowing, just her touch, so matter-of-factly it proved to him that she accepted his gift: he was hers. And she wanted him, wouldn't reject him.

"I love you, Teresa," he whispered into her ear, "don't you ever do something like today again, do you hear me? NEVER. You almost made my heart stop when you escaped that bullet by a hair's breadth. I don't want to go through this again, so PLEASE… be careful, dammit!"

She looked thoughtfully at him, pressing a few sweet, playful kisses onto his lips.

"I love you, Jane. I want you to be happy more than anything. And no matter how much I dislike her- I didn't want you to lose another woman you love."

He growled low in his throat.

"God, Lisbon- LORELEI? Why don't you talk to me, you stubborn little martyr? You almost MADE ME lose the woman I love by throwing yourself in that bullet's path! I love YOU, Teresa Lisbon… no one else. God, I can't believe how close I came to losing you- I'd never have recovered, NEVER."

He wanted to soothe her, cuddle, just be close, feel her with his whole body, every fiber quivering with anxious need.

But her slow, rubbing caresses on his shaft made him horny as hell, and after a while of playful kissing and touching he couldn't tolerate it any longer.

"I can't behave when you do that, you naughty little brat," he groaned into her mouth.

"Don't," she whispered, "but…"

"Yes? Everything you want, my dear…"

She smiled at him.

"Can you catch me again?"

He grinned, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face.

"You bet."

**The End**

_This was just a small birthday fic, dear Liz, I hope you enjoyed it and have the MOST PERFECT BIRTHDAY ever! I send you this story, a big virtual hug and all my love!_


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